


Sore Losers

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Law & Order
Genre: M/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 19.15 ["Bailout"]. Jack and Mike, after Jack's cheap shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Losers

**Author's Note:**

> Post 19.15 ["Bailout"]. Inspired by Jack kicking Mike while he was down after the trial.

Mike gets home, throws himself onto the couch, and stares at the ceiling. Twenty minutes later, still staring at the ceiling, he hears a key in the lock. “You’re an asshole,” he greets Jack.

“And good evening to you.” Jack hangs up his coat on the rack next to the door and throws his hat onto a chair. “Want to order out?”

“You’re dead to me,” Mike says.

Jack leans over the back of the couch and invades Mike’s view of the ceiling. “I’ll broil some steaks, bake a couple of potatoes, and we can drink that terrible Merlot you like.”

“You didn’t have to kick me when I was down.”

Jack reaches down and presses his hand to Mike’s abdomen. “You did the best job you could. Connie’s right about your cross and your summation, but you still lost.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Jack slides his fingers between the buttons on Mike’s shirt. “You can’t expect me to treat you any more kindly at the office.”

Mike sighs and pushes himself into a sitting position. “I know.”

There’s a pause, heavy with everything they rarely say. Jack walks into the kitchen to start dinner, and Mike follows after a few seconds, pulling the wine from the fridge. “The Merlot isn’t that bad.”

“It’s a step above cooking wine.”

Mike pulls the corkscrew from the drawer and puts the wine on the counter. “That’d make it two steps above your cooking.”

Jack grins and turns on water to scrub the potatoes. “There’s still time to order in.”

Mike watches Jack roll up his sleeves and tuck a dish towel into his waistband. He puts down the corkscrew and walks to the sink, sliding his arms around Jack from behind. “Today sucked,” he says into Jack’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah?” Jack asks, reaching for a potato.

“Bastard defense attorney convinced the jury to let him go because he’s not a rich dick who got a bailout.”

“You did all you could.”

“I hate losing like that,” Mike says. “If it’d been reasonable doubt, I could live with it a little better, but it wasn’t. It was emotional blackmail.”

Jack shakes the water from his hands, turns off the faucet, and wipes his hands on his towel. “Open the wine, and pour me a glass,” he says as he turns around. “A little food, some terrible wine, and you’ll be feeling better.”

Mike chuckles a little, pulling away from Jack to go back to the corkscrew. “You’re a little bit Irish; you know that?”

“With all the guilt associated with it,” Jack replies, brushing Mike’s back with his arm as he moves towards the fridge. “I’ll try to keep my foot out of my mouth next time.”

“I’ll try not to have it happen again,” Mike returns.

Jack smiles behind the refrigerator door. “I never doubted that.”


End file.
